But the fire in her eyes and the passion in her voice did not. She poked a finger into my chest. “It’s demeaning and cruel and, regardless of your short temper, I don’t think you want to force me to accept orders that are degrading.”
I took two steps back, and her anxiety lessened.
Burning ashes and flaming rivers. I hated the relief I felt when my actions made her fear subside. I was a king! Fair and impartial, swift to justice and… and apparently subject to fae manipulation.
“No,” I said, reeling from her insults to my position. “I do not want you to feel degraded, but I am the High King. I give instructions, and my people follow them. And that includes you now.”
The skin around her eyes tightened and the anxiety I’d sensed moments ago burst to life again. “You may be the High King,” she whispered, “but you don’t have to be heartless. You’re not a monster. Rulers can be compassionate.”
I gripped the sword hilt that hung on my waist. I was not heartless, but I was a monster. My iron-fisted control was the only way to protect my people.
But she would never understand that. She wanted to spare punishments and allow second chances. Probably even third and fourth chances. A leniency that would inspire assassins and corrode my kingdom.
No, I could not explain myself in a way she would understand. It was the burden of kings to accept the incorrectjudgment of others. So I clenched my teeth and told her, “Come.”
Chapter 5: Callista
He did it again.
Come.
Oh, I wanted to squirt lemons in his eyes every time he said that.
But I trusted his honor more than any other elf in his kingdom, so I followed him. He had upheld that honor, protecting me when it was inconvenient and not hurting me when I argued with him. His honor might be the one thing that kept me alive now.
And he didn’t return to the Dining Hall.
He clipped through the stone corridors and up spiraling staircases twice as fast as I would have liked. He probably wanted to get rid of me. Was he still mad at me? I had definitely managed to poke his temper, but I did not feel bad about it—his arrogance and ego still needed to deflate.
Unless…
What if kings were meant to be arrogant? Perhaps knowing their people depended on them bred a sort of self-importance that I just hadn’t encountered yet.
I shook my head and rubbed my chest again. Motab had told me the ability to see magic was rare, but it had never bothered me until today. Now, the magic that bound me to the king looked like a string emerging from my chest… and the sight of it made my chest itch. I was almost tempted to ask for the magic-voiding shackles again, just so I didn’t have to look at it.
But, no. I couldn’t block my magic sight. My ability to see magic was my best hope for finding Motab.
The king stopped in front of a door and opened it.
I had been so preoccupied with thoughts of magic and Motab that I hadn’t noticed the carpets, drapes, and tapestries that decorated this hall. I peeked into the room he’d opened. Opulent rugs covered the entire stone floor and tasteful furniture matched more drapes.
I pulled my gaze out of the room and asked the king, “Where are we?”
A corner of his mouth twitched somewhere between a smile and a smirk as his grim, low voice answered. “I have decided tocontain you in a room.”
I nearly clapped, but instead clasped my hands together while a wide smile scrawled across my face. This absolutely made up for not warning me about his people’s dislike of fae.
I tried to restrain my excitement at not living in the dungeon, but it leaked out anyway. I’d never practiced restraining emotions before. “Thank you. I promise to stay inside until you give me permission to leave.”
I ran into the room without waiting for him to answer. We didn’t need to even see each other anymore. I could live happily in this room, and he could go do all his kingly drekkan duties with his frosty glares, intense magic, and monster muscles.
He said something about a washroom and sitting space before he left and closed the door. I hardly listened. I spread my arms and spun in a circle. I was so giddy at the prospect of being aprisonerin a room fit for a princess that I twirled over and over, faster, and faster, until the movement made me light-headed. I angled myself so I collapsed on the most comfortable bed I’d ever touched in my life.
I lay on a soft comforter and stared at the layers of drapes while I caught my breath. I wasn’t normally so dizzy, but this entire day had been unusual.
And I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
A pang of hunger emphasized the point, but I didn’t have food. Maybe I should have taken something when the king told me to?
